fifty shadows herondale
by flor herondale
Summary: This is an English version. which begins with the meeting of jace Herondale entrepreneur, with sweet and shy Clarissa Fairchild. began an erotic relationship. but they may remain unfeeling. this is my first fanfiction in English please help
1. Chapter 1

**This is English version. I have the order here then have**

 **It hello as everyone knows my name is Flower. This is a story based on the book 50 shades of gray, then it will be erotic, romantic and dramatic but the difference with the book is that this will be based on characters from the deadly instrument (Jace Clary, Isabelle, Simon etc.). And naturally you will have lemon, about 30 chapters or more then let's start with the characters.**

 **Christian Grey / Jace Herondale**

 **Anastasia Steele / Clarissa Fairchild**

 **Katherine Kavanagh / Isabelle Lightwood**

 **Eliot Grey / Simon Lewis**

 **Mia Grey / Maia Roberts**

 **Ethan Kavanagh / Jordan Kyle**

 **Ray Steele / Lucas Garraway**

 **Mother Ana / Jocelyn Fairchild**

 **And soon I'll see.**

 **Synopsis**

 **When the student Clarissa arts Fairchild is forced to interview the successful young businessman Jace Herondale for the school magazine, she finds him attractive, enigmatic and intimidating, agreed that the interview went wrong, he tries to get Herondale of his mind until appearing on store where he works part time.**

 **Clary worldly and innocent, he is surprised to notice that she loves this man, and when he warns her to stay away, only increases their desperation to be near him. Unable to resist the beauty, wit and spirit of Clary, he admits that the desire, but on their own terms.**

 **Shocked but excited by the singular erotic tastes Herondale, Clary doubt.**

 **For all the trappings of success-his multifusional business, his wealth, his beloved family adoptiva-, Herondale is a man tormented by demons of his childhood and consumed by the need to control. When the couple embarks on a passionate, physical and daring relationship, Clary learn more of their own desires, as Jace Herondale hidden from public scrutiny.**

 **Can your relationship transen of physical passion? Clary was found undergoing the self-indulgent teacher? And if it does, will it continue to love what you find?**

 **Erotic, funny and touching, the trilogy 50 Herondale shadows.**

 **Clarification: It is not so much as books.**

 **Tell me if you want to continue and please do not read if you do not like the lemon.**

 **Flor**


	2. la entrevista

**Hello it is the first official chapter.**

 **Release all responsibility: remember that the characters belong to Cassandra Clare, and the rights to THE JAMES.**

 **The name given to this is: the interview**

I frown in frustration at myself in the mirror. Damn my hair simply does not behave and damn Isabelle Lightwood for being ill and undergo this ordeal. I should be studying for my final exams, which are next week, but here I am, trying to brush my hair to look controlled. I must not sleep with wet hair. I must not sleep with wet hair. Reciting this mantra several times, I try, again, to have it under control with the brush. I roll my eyes in exasperation and looked at the pale girl with red hair and emerald green eyes too big for her face staring back at me, and I give up. My only option is to dominate my wayward hair with a ponytail and look semipresentable expect.

Izzy is my roommate and has chosen today, of all days, to succumb to the flu. Therefore, you can not attend the interview had been done, with some mega-industrial magnate I've ever heard, for the school newspaper. So I volunteered. I have final exams to burn the eyelashes, an essay to finish, and is supposed to go to work this afternoon, but today I have to drive two hundred sixty-five kilometers to downtown Seattle to meet with the enigmatic General Manager Herondale Enterprises Holdings Inc. As an outstanding entrepreneur and major benefactor of our university, your time is extremely precious-much more precious than mine but has been granted an interview with Izzy. A real opportunity, she tells me. Damn extracurricular activities. Izzy is curled up on the sofa in the living room.

Clary, sorry. It took nine months to get this interview. It will take another six months to reschedule, and we both will have graduated by then. As editor, I can not pass up this opportunity. Please Izzy 'I pray with his voice rough and sore. How does he do it? Even sick, she is mischievous and lovely, with jet black hair in place and shiny dark brown eyes, although they are now red and watery. I do not know my unwelcome pang of sympathy.

'Of course I'll go, Izzy. You should go back to bed. Want some Nyquil or Tylenol?

-Nyquil, Please. Here are the questions and my mini recorder. Just press "Record" here. Make notes, transcribe everything.

I do not know anything about him I mutter, trying and failing to suppress my growing panic.

-The Questions will help. Go. It's a long way. I do not want to be late.

Okay, I'm going. Go back to bed. I made some soup for hot later. He looked at her, with love. Just for you, Izzy, do this.

-I Will do it. Good luck. And thank you, Clary ... as usual, you are my life. I collect my wallet, I smiled wryly, then go straight to the car. I can not believe I left Izzy convince this. But then Izzy can convince anyone of anything. It will be an exceptional journalist. He is articulate, strong, persuasive, argumentative, beautiful ... and it is my most, dearest friend.

The roads are clear when I leave Vancouver, WA1, to Brooklyn and I-52. It's early, and I have to be in Seattle until two in the afternoon.

Fortunately, Izzy has lent me his Mercedes CLK sports. I'm not sure Wanda, my old VW Beetle, get to make the trip on time. Oh, driving the Merc3 is fun, and kilometers fade when I floor the throttle.

My destination is the headquarters of the international company Mr. Herondale. It is a huge twenty-story building, with curved glass and steel, a utilitarian architectural fantasy, with the words "Herondale House" written discreetly in steel over the front glass doors. Missing fifteen minutes to two when I get enormously relieved not to be late as I walk into the huge lobby-and downright intimidating glass, steel and white sandstone.

Behind the solid sandstone desk, a very attractive and well groomed brunette smiles at me kindly. He is wearing the gray jacket and white shirt sharper than I've ever seen. It is immaculate.

I'm here to see Mr. Herondale. Clarissa Fairchild am representing Isabelle Lightwood.

Excuse me for a moment, Ms. Fairchild. She raises an eyebrow slightly while waiting shyly in front of you. I'm beginning to wish I had borrowed one of the formal blazer Izzy instead of using my navy blazer.

I made an effort and I put my only skirt, my comfortable brown knee-high boots and a blue sweater. For me, this is smart. I put a strand of my hair behind my ear while she did not intend to intimidate me.

He hopes to Ms. Lightwood. Sign here please, Ms. Fairchild. Use the last lift to the right, press the floor number twenty. 'I smile kindly, funny certainly, as I sign.

He hands me a security pass that has the word "visitor" very firmly stamped on the front. I can not help but crack a smile. It is certainly obvious that I'm just visiting. I do not fit here at all. Nothing changes, sigh to myself. Thanking road to the area of elevators beyond the two security men who are much smarter I dress with black suits well made. The elevator shakes me with a speed limit at the floor number twenty. The doors open and I am in another large hall, again, glass, steel and white sandstone. I see in front of another desktop sandstone and other young brunette dressed impeccably in black and white, rises to greet me. Miss Fairchild, could wait here, please? He points to a waiting area with white leather chairs.

Behind the leather chairs is a spacious meeting room with glass walls and a table of dark wood equally spacious, surrounded with at least twenty matching chairs. Beyond them, there is a window that goes from floor to ceiling with a sky view of Seattle that reveals the entire city to the Sound4

. It is an amazing sight and I'm momentarily paralyzed by it. Wow. I feel, gleaning the questions in my portfolio and review them, cursing to myself Izzy for not giving me a short biography. I know nothing about this man I'm about to interview. He could have ninety or thirty years. Uncertainty is galling and my nerves resurface, putting restless. I've never been comfortable with face-to-face, I prefer the anonymity of a discussion To be honest, I prefer my own company, reading a classic British novel, curled up in a chair in the campus library. No sitting and squirming nervously in a colossal glass and stone building.

I roll my eyes at myself. Calm down, Fairchild. Judging by the building, which is too cold, modern, presume Herondale is in his forties: thin, tan and brown to match the rest of the staff.

Another brunette dressed impeccably elegant leaves a large door on the right. What happens with all the immaculate brown? This seems Stepford5

. Breathing deeply, I stand.

\- Miss Fairchild? asks the last brunette.

Yes I croaked, and I clear my throat. Yes. 'That sounded safer.

-Mr Herondale shall see in a moment. Can I take your coat?

-Oh Please. Lucho to take off my coat.

\- Have you been offered any refreshment?

Um ... no. Oh, God, the Morena Number One is in trouble?

La Morena Number Two frowns and gives a glimpse of the young woman behind the desk.

\- Would you like tea, coffee, water? he asks, turning his attention back to me.

-a Glass of water. I mutter thanks.

Olivia, please bring him to Ms. Fairchild a glass of water. His voice is severe. Olivia gets up immediately and sneaks behind a door across the hall.

My apologies, Ms. Fairchild, Olivia is our new intern. Please sit down. Mr. Herondale see it in five minutes.

Olivia returns with a glass of ice water.

Here you are, Ms. Fairchild.

Thanks.

Number brunette Two walks to the big desk, her heels echoing in the

Sandstone floor. He sits and both continue their work.

Perhaps Mr. Herondale insists that all its employees are brown. I'm wondering idly if that's legal, when the office door opens and a tall, handsome, elegantly dressed and with short dreadlocks black man out.

I have definitely put the wrong clothes. He turns around and says through the door -Golf this week Herondale.

I do not hear the answer. He turns around, sees me and smiles, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners. Olivia jumped from his chair and called the elevator. Shine seems to jump out of your seat. He's more nervous than me!

Good afternoon, ladies, 'he says as he walks out the sliding door.

-Mr Herondale will see you now, Ms. Fairchild. You can spend Morena says the Number Two.

I start to walk shakily, trying to suppress my nerves. Picking up my portfolio, I leave my glass of water and I make my way toward the partially open door.

No need to touch, just between. She smiles kindly.

I push the door open and stumbled, tripping over my own feet and falling headlong into the office.

Shit, me and my two left feet! I'm on my hands and knees on the threshold of the office of Mr. Herondale and gentle hands are around me, helping me to my feet. I'm so ashamed, damn my clumsiness. I have to steel myself to look up. My God, he's so young.

Miss Lightwood. He holds out a hand with long fingers at me once I stood. Jace am Herondale. He is okay? Would you like to sit?

... So young and attractive, very attractive. He is tall, is dressed in a fine gray suit, white shirt, black tie, unruly blond hair and intense, bright golden eyes watching me shrewdly. It takes me a moment to find my voice.

Um ... actually ... I mutter. If this guy is in his thirties then I am completely surprised. Stunned, I put my hand in his and give us a grip. When our fingers touch, I feel a strange tingling recorriéndome exciting. I push my hand hastily, embarrassed. Must be static.

Blinking rapidly, my eyelashes matching the rhythm of my heart. Miss. Lightwood is indisposed, so I was sent to me. I hope you do not mind, Mr. Herondale.

\- And you are? His voice is warm, possibly funny, but it's hard to say at his expression impassive. It seems mildly interested, but more than that, polite.

Clarissa Fairchild. I am studying arts with Izzy, Isabelle ... um ... um ... Miss. Lightwood, in Washington State.

'I see he says simply. I think I see the ghost of a smile on his face, but I'm not sure.

\- Would you like to sit? 'I said the white leather sofa with an "L".

His office is too big for one man. Facing windows that go from floor to ceiling, there is a huge modern dark wood desk in which six people could eat comfortably. It matches the coffee table next to the couch. Everything else is black: the roof, floors and walls, except the one by the door hanging in a mosaic of small paintings, thirty-six of them arranged in a square. They are exquisite, a series of mundane objects and forgotten as precious painted with details that look like photographs. Put together, they are awesome.

-A Local artist. Herondale Trouton says when he catches my eye.

They're adorable. Elevate the ordinary to the extraordinary mutter, distracted by it and by the paintings. She tilts her head to one side and look closely.

'I could not agree more, Ms. Fairchild she answers, her voice is soft and for some inexplicable reason, I find myself blushing. Outside the paintings, the rest of the office is cool, clean and clinical. I wonder if that reflects the personality of Adonis sinking gracefully in one of the white leather chairs in front of me. I shake my head, altered the direction taken by my thoughts, and questions Izzy recover from my portfolio. Then I put the mini tape recorder and I'm so clumsy, that dropped twice on the coffee table in front of me.

Mr. Herondale says nothing, waiting patiently while I am ashamed, I hope, and I get more nervous. When I work up the courage to look at him, he's watching me, one hand relaxed on his lap and the other cupping her chin, sliding his long index finger across his lips. I think he's trying to suppress a smile.

I'm sorry stammered. I'm not used to this.

'Take all the time you need, Ms. Fairchild says he.

\- Do you mind if I record your answers

-After That has taken so much trouble putting the recorder, ask me now?

I blush. Are you making fun? I hope so. Blink at him, unsure of what to say, and I think I give shame because yields. No, it does not bother me.

-. Izzy, I mean, Miss Lightwood, he explained what it was for the interview?

-Yes. To appear in the publication of the school newspaper graduation because who will be conferred the diplomas in the graduation ceremony this year.

Oh! These are news to me and I am temporarily disturbed by the thought of someone not much older than me, 'All right, maybe six years or so, well, mega successful, but even ASI- going to give me my diploma. I frown, bringing my capricious attention back to the task that I have in hand.

Well. He swallowed nervously. I have some questions, Mr. Herondale. -Acomodo A rebellious lock of my hair behind my ear.

I would have thought that says, deadpan. He's laughing at me. My cheeks get hot as I realized that, I straightened and squared her shoulders in an attempt to see me higher and intimidating. Pressing the record button on the recorder, I try to look professional.

'You are very young to have amassed an empire as well. What owes its success ?. I look at it. Her smile is sad, but it looks vaguely disappointed.

-The Business is always about people, Ms. Fairchild, and I am very good judging them. I know what the angry, what makes them thrive and what not, what inspires them and how to encourage them. I employ an outstanding team and well rewarded. He pauses and golden gaze fixed on me. My belief is to achieve success in any plan you have, to become oneself in the master plan that I know inside and out, know every detail. I work hard, very hard to do that. I make decisions based on logic and fact. I have a natural instinct that can discover and nurture a good solid idea as good people. The bottom line is always reduced to good people.

Maybe just lucky. 'This is not in the list of Izzy, but he's so arrogant.

His eyes flash momentarily surprised.

No I adhere to luck or chance, Ms. Fairchild. The harder you work the luckier I seem to have. It really is about having the right people on your team and to direct their energies properly. I think it was Harvey Firestone who said

"The growth and development of people is the most important task of leadership."

It sounds like a controller. The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

Oh, I practice control in all things, Ms. Fairchild says without a trace of humor in his smile. I look at him, and he holds my gaze steadily, unfazed. My pulse quickens, and my face blushes again. Why it has such a disconcerting effect on me? Your overwhelming and attractive appearance perhaps? The way he looks at me? The way in gently rubbing his index finger on his lower lip? I wish he would stop doing that.

Besides, being sure to immense yourself in your fantasies it acquired

Secret you were born to control things continues, his voice soft.

\- Do you feel that has immense power? -Driver.

-Use To about forty thousand people, Ms. Fairchild. That gives me a sense of responsibility ... can, if preferred. If it decided that it was no longer interested in the telecommunications business and sell everything, twenty thousand people would struggle to make mortgage payments after about a month.

I gaped. I'm stunned by their lack of humility.

\- And you do not have a committee before which respond? I ask, disgusted.

I am the owner of my company. No I have to answer to a committee. He raises an eyebrow at me. I blush. Of course, you'd know this if I had done some research. But God is so arrogant. Change in approach.

\- And do you have interests outside of work?

I have varied interests, Ms. Fairchild. The ghost of a smile comes to his lips. Varied. And for some reason, I'm confused and heated by his steady gaze. His eyes are alight with a wicked thought.

'But if you work so hard, what do you do to relax?

\- Relax? He smiles, revealing perfect white teeth. I stopped breathing.

It's really handsome. No one should be so attractive.

Well, to "relax" as you say, sail, flight, I enjoy various physical activities. He shifts in his chair. I am a very rich man, Ms. Fairchild, expensive and have interesting hobbies.

I glance quickly to questions from Izzy, wanting to get out of this.

-You Invest in the manufacturing sector. Why on that specifically? I ask. Why do I feel so uncomfortable?

I like to build things. I like to know how they work, what makes them move, how to build and disassemble. And I love boats. What I can say?

That sounds like your heart talking rather than logic and facts.

His mouth grimaces and looks at me, assessing me.

Possibly. Although some people say that I have no heart.

\- Why would they say that?

Because I know well. His lips curved in a wry smile.

\- Would you say his friends that is easy to know? And I regret the question as soon as I say it. It is not in the list of Izzy.

I'm a very private person, Ms. Fairchild. I do a lot to protect my privacy. I do not usually give interviews' Finish.

\- Why he agreed to do it?

Because I am a benefactor of the University, and despite attempts, I could not get that Ms. Lightwood leave me alone. He badgered and harassed my PR people, and I admire that kind of tenacity.

I know how tenacious Izzy can be. That's why I'm sitting here squirming uncomfortably under his penetrating gaze when I should be studying for exams.

-Also Invest in farming technologies. Why are you interested in this area?

'We can not eat money, Ms. Fairchild, and too many people on this planet do not have enough to eat.

That sounds very philanthropic. Is it something that you feel passionate about? Do we feed the world's poor?

He shrugs, very elusive.

It's an astute business murmurs, but I think that you are not being honest. It makes no sense ... to feed the world's poor? I can not see the financial benefits of this, only the integrity of the ideal. I glance at the question, confused by his attitude.

\- Do you have a philosophy? If yes, what is?

'I have a philosophy as such. Perhaps a guiding principle, the Carnegie ". The man who acquires the ability to take full possession of his mind may take possession of anything else to what is entitled" I'm very unique, tenacious. I like control: myself and those around me.

\- So you want to own things? You're a driver.

I want to deserve to possess, but in a nutshell, I do.

Sounds like the end consumer.

-I Am. He smiles, but the smile did not reach his eyes. Again, this is not consistent with someone who wants to feed the world, so I can not help thinking that we are talking about something else, but I'm absolutely baffled as to what it is. Gulped. Room temperature is rising, or maybe just me. I just want to finish this interview. Izzy certainly have enough material now, right? I look to the next question.

-You Was adopted. To what extent do you think that affected his way of being? Oh, this is personal. I look at him, hoping that is not offended. Frowns.

'I have no way of knowing.

My interest has been aroused.

\- How old were you when it was adopted?

That is a material in the public record, Ms. Fairchild. His tone is stern. I blush again. Shit. Yes, of course, if I'd known I was going to do this interview, I would have done some research. I move quickly.

He's had to sacrifice family life for their work.

That's not a question. It's dry.

-I'm Sorry. 'I squirm, and he makes me feel like a lost child. I try again. Have you had to sacrifice a family life for your work?

I have a family. I have a brother, a sister and two loving parents. I'm not interested in extending my family beyond that.

\- Are you gay, sir Herondale?

Inhales sharply, and I am ashamed, mortified. Shit. Why I did not spend any kind of filter before reading this right? What I can tell you that I'm just reading the questions? Damn Izzy and curiosity!

Clarissa No, I'm not. -Eleva Eyebrows, a cold glint in his eyes. Does not seem

Contento.

I apologize. umm ... It's written here. It's the first time you've said my name. My pulse quickens, and my cheeks are burning again. Nervously, I put my hair behind her ear.

He cocks his head to one side.

\- These are not your own questions? .The Blood drained from my head. Oh no.

-not This. Izzy, Miss. Lightwood, compiled the questions.

\- Are partners in the student newspaper? -Oh Shit. I have nothing to do with the student newspaper. It is your extracurricular activity, not mine. My face is on fire.

No. It is my roommate.

He rubs his chin in silent deliberation, his golden eyes appraising.

\- You offered voluntarily to do this interview? he asks, his voice deathly quiet.

Wait, who is supposed to be interviewing who? His eyes burn me, and I am forced to answer the truth.

I was forced. She is not well. My voice is weak and distressed.

That explains a lot.

They knock on the door, and enters Morena Number Two.

Herondale Sir, forgive me for interrupting, but its next meeting is in two minutes.

'We have not finished here, Andrea. Please cancel my next meeting.

Andrea certainly looking. It seems lost. He slowly turns his head to face and raises his eyebrows. She blushes bright pink color. Oh well. Not just me.

Very well, Mr. Herondale murmurs, then exit. He frowns and turns his attention back to me.

\- Where were we ?, Miss Fairchild.

Oh, we're back to "Ms. Fairchild "now.

'Please do not let me interrupt.

I want to know about you. I think that's only fair. His golden eyes are alight with curiosity. Double shit. Where are you going with this? Placed his elbows on the arms of the chair and fingers together in front of his mouth. His mouth ... it is distracting. Gulped.

Not much to know I say, blushing again.

\- What are your plans after graduation?

I shrug, confused by his interest. Izzy come to Seattle to find a place to find work. I have not really thought beyond my finals.

'I have not made any plans, Mr. Herondale. I just need to overcome my finals. -to Which now should be studying instead of sitting in you great, flamboyant and sterile office, feeling uncomfortable under your penetrating gaze.

We carried out a program of excellent internships here says quietly.

Raised his eyebrows in surprise. Are you offering me a job?

Oh. I'll have to mutter, completely in confusion account. Although I'm not sure I fit in here. -Oh No. I'm thinking out loud again.

\- Why do you say that? -Ladea His head to one side, intrigued, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

It's obvious, right? I'm uncoordinated, scruffy, and I'm not brown.

Not for me mutters. Her gaze is intense, all humor is gone, and strange muscles deep in my belly suddenly tightened. His eyes from his gaze.

\- You want to teach you around? he asks.

I'm sure you are too busy, Mr. Herondale, and I have to make a long drive.

\- Are you driving back to WSU6 in Vancouver? He sounds surprised, even worried. Look out the window. It has begun to llover-. Well, you better drive carefully. His tone is harsh, authoritarian. Why should I worry? -. Have you got everything you need? he adds.

I Yes, sir, 'I say, putting the recorder in my portfolio. His eyes narrowed speculatively.

Thanks for the interview, Mr. Herondale.

-The Pleasure was all mine says, polite as ever.

When I get up, he gets up and hands me his hand.

Until we meet again, Ms. Fairchild. And it sounds like a challenge or a threat, I'm not sure why. I frown. When will we meet again? I shake his hand once again, amazed that this strange energy between us is still there. Must be my nerves.

-Mr. Herondale. I nod at him. Moving with an agile athletic elegance to the door, she opens it wide.

Just making sure you reach the door, Ms. Fairchild. 'I gives a small smile. Obviously he is referring to my previous inelegant entrance to his office.

I blush.

That's very considerate, Mr. Herondale I say abruptly, her smile widens. I am glad that I find entertaining, frown inside, walking toward the lobby. I am shocked when I still was. Andrea and Olivia raise their view, equally surprised.

\- Do you have a coat? asks Herondale.

-Yes. Olivia is leaps up and retrieves my jacket, which he is seized by Herondale before he can give it to me. The holding and feeling ridiculously shy, I cringe inside. Herondale placed his hands for a moment on my shoulders. Gasp at the contact. If you notice my reaction, he says nothing. His long index finger presses the button summoning the elevator, and remain standing awkwardly waiting ... for my part, coolly self-possessed for his. The doors open, and I hasten to get desperate to escape. I really need to get out of here.

When I turn to look at him, he is leaning against the door next to the elevator with one hand on the wall. It really is very, very attractive. It's a distraction. His burning golden eyes look at me.

Clarissa says farewell.

Jace I reply. And thank God, the doors close.

 **I hope you enjoyed until next time.**

 **Flor**


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